Meanwhile, at the Spotlight Diner
by MoWa
Summary: In which there is Klaine in New York and Gunther ends up making a lot of money because, of course, everybody ships it. Reaction fic to 5x02. Rating: PG.


**Title:** Meanwhile, at the Spotlight Diner (aka The Diner with the Crazy Singing Crew)...

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Genre:** Fluff, humor

**Spoilers / Warnings:** Reaction fic to 5x02! No spoilers beyond that though, just speculations.

**Word Count:** 2 300+

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee, I'm only playing with the characters

**Summary:** _In which there is Klaine in New York and Gunther ends up making a lot of money because, of course, everybody ships it_.

**A/N:** It's not often I am struck with an idea that'll allow me to write something approaching canon. This fic here is a future!fic; it assumes that Blaine will go to New York once he graduates and has fun with the idea that if he does he'll probably end up working at the same diner than Santana, Rachel and Kurt.

I also take the opportunity of this note to say that this fic is told through a POV of one of the characters, whose opinions don't represent those of the author, and therefore in no way means to be insulting.

* * *

_Meanwhile, at the Spotlight Diner (aka The Diner with the Crazy Singing Crew)..._

* * *

The name-tag said "Blaine" and had already been customized with one of these smiley faces drawn at the end with a sharpie.

Gunther added a frown to his already intimidating posture - arms crossed, feet firmly planted on the ground, expression unreadable but bordering on disapproving; he might not be working in theater but being the owner of a diner on Broadway he had picked up a thing or two about proper acting over the years, thank you very much. And right now he was The Boss.

The boy in front of him twitched slightly under his scrutiny. Good. That and the general way he carried himself proved that he'd been well-raised and knew how to properly acknowledge authority figures. Gunther saw him visibly refrain from shuffling his feet while he was inspected from head to toe.

His hair was almost cruelly gelled down on his head. It looked weird but at the same time it radically solved the problem of any of it potentially falling into the customers' meals. Gunther could appreciate such dedication, the renunciation of aesthetics for the sake of professionalism.

The boy also wore the diner's outfit well. The colors, black and red, even complimented his complexion. He'd obviously ironed it before coming in, although Gunther couldn't help but be surprised that they'd found one his size on such short notice: the boy was clearly shorter than the average employee. But it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The way he filled out his shirt hinted at solid shoulders and arms that would allow him to carry plates and trays without difficulty. Plus his tiny body would make it easier for him to weave through tables and duck without bumping into anyone or anything.

Gunther would have to put him on the most crowded shifts.

A pair of sensible, well-polished black shoes completed the picture. As a whole the boy made an incredibly good first impression, came across as someone serious and reliable, clean-cut and dedicated, someone Gunther could trust. Almost suspiciously so, and Gunther was nothing if not wary.

He was pretty too. Upside: Gunther had been working in that diner for years and he knew by now that customers always appreciated a good eye-candy. For him as a manager it mostly meant more potential regulars and better tips for the boy, which equated to him being less likely to ask for a raise. Downside: Gunther knew pretty boys, especially young ones, and knew their preoccupations better than anyone since he had been one himself, if he dared say so. And he didn't pay his employees to flirt and pick up chicks - or guys. So he asked:

"You single, boy?"

It was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. The boy became positively radiant and replied with obvious relish:

"No, Sir. I'm engaged."

Gunther felt his eyebrows raise. What was it with kids these days? Because the guy in front of him was definitely a kid, fresh from high school, and yet he was the second of Gunther's young employees to have already decided to tie the knot. And here he'd thought that the kids who left their hometown to come all the way to New York had bigger dreams than getting married with 2.5 children, that they were _smarter_ than that, or at least driven or neurotic enough to want to wait until they were on the wrong side of thirty, at the height of their careers and in a decade old relationship before they started considering the possibility of making things official - and this only for the sake of tax breaks, of course.

But Gunther wasn't going to complain about that turn of events. He was all for his employees being decidedly taken. Take Hummel, for instance. Gunther had no problems with gays, but it was understandably better if there was no chance of them preying on his customers. And in a more general manner he was all for gay marriage, since it was the only way to regulate things; homosexuality was going to happen, apparently, just like bad days or rashes in weird places, so the only thing to do was make them get married and thus stop living in sin and being promiscuous all over the place.

And if this little guy here was taken too, then it meant that Gunther wouldn't end up regretting his decision of hiring him since he wouldn't lose any clients over something like inconsiderate hook-ups.

"And you can sing."

"Yes, Sir," the boy replied with a confident nod. That didn't come as a surprise at all, since he'd been brought in by Lopez.

Gunther still didn't know if hiring her had been the best or worst decision of his career. Once she'd settled in she'd first brought in Streisand (Gunther knew it wasn't her real name but heck, he had no idea what her real name was; once a customer had asked to see her, describing her as "the one that looks like Barbra Streisand", and that had been that; as it turned out the man hadn't even wanted to complain but to offer her a minor background role on a show so off Broadway it was almost in the next state over, but Streisand had been delighted anyways); then there had been Hummel. And after that it had seemed like they thought that him hiring them equated to him giving them the green light to do as they pleased. And what pleased them was to burst into song for no apparent reason in the middle of their shifts, away from the stage and outside of the hours during which said stage was active.

Now that was the kind of disruption over which Gunther would've fired them at once - if it hadn't turned out that the customers _loved it_. Since these shenanigans had started his turnover had at least doubled, and people kept coming in in the hopes of getting an impromptu show. There was still no schedule for them, because Gunther had realized that the best way to make profit was for the performances to remain unplanned, forcing clients to come in as often as possible in order to heighten their chances of catching one.

On the other hand it had been kind of lethal for Gunther and his establishment's reputation because now they were mostly known as the Guy and the Diner with the Crazy Singing Crew in the business.

But as they said, in for a penny, in for a pound. As he critically looked at "Blaine :)", Gunther had to admit that he would make a great addition to the crew in question. His voice was smooth, probably that of a tenor, he had the right face for the stage, and on top of that he appeared to be ready to work hard.

So Gunther nodded once in approval.

"Okay, fine. You're hired and starting right now. Shadow Hummel for today," he instructed, nodding towards the other boy in case his new employee didn't know him already. "He'll show you the ropes."

The boy beamed like Christmas had come early. "Yes, Sir!" he chirped, before skipping off to find his new colleague like his feet weren't quite touching the ground.

Gunther bemusedly watched him go. It wasn't every day you got such an enthusiastic response from someone you'd just hired as little more than an overworked slave. But it was refreshing, he guessed.

* * *

By the end of the week Gunther had learned not to _ever_ put Hummel and Anderson on the same shift.

Because as it turned out, the two were engaged _to each other_. And Gunther was all for marriage equality for the reasons stated above but those two uncontrollably and incessantly serenading each other at work instead of, say, serving customers?

That wasn't going to cut it.

* * *

A week later and Gunther had to change his mind yet again because said customers kept asking where "Klaine" was.

When he asked who the hell _that_ was it took half an hour of explanations from the regular in front of whom he'd broken down for him to understand that "Klaine" was a contraction of "Kurt and Blaine". Another fifteen minutes were then necessary for him to make the connection with Hummel and Anderson. By the time it came to the customer explaining whatever the hell he meant when he said that "everybody shipped it", Gunther had decided to give up. He'd gotten the gist of it, anyway, which was that everyone wanted Anderson and Hummel on the same shifts, singing ridiculous love songs at and/or to each other.

That was what the world had come to.

* * *

Gunther loved his office, the place that embodied the power he had over his diner and employees. He especially loved his massive desk, which gave him an aura of authority without the excessive responsibilities, boring assignments and impossible hours of a CEO or something similar. He always felt at his best when he was sitting behind it in his large, comfortable chair, staring down at a quavering subordinate.

Today both Hummel and Anderson looked slightly apprehensive, which was only proper since they'd been summoned to his office without knowing why. Hummel was sitting very straight in his chair, legs crossed and fingers interlaced on his knee, face pale. Anderson was holding himself quite correctly too, as always, but he'd reached out to put one of his hands on his colleague's as soon as they'd sat down.

It had looked like an automatic gesture of comfort, something he hadn't even thought about, and weren't these kids supposed to only be engaged? Right now they looked like a couple that had been happily, harmoniously married for at least ten years and was now waiting for some bad news that would affect them both but in no way jeopardize the solidity of their union.

Just for that Gunther decided to let them stew for a couple minutes more. And no, he wasn't bitter over the fact that his own marriage had ended in a divorce nearly seven years ago; he just had to make sure that they remained aware that the world wasn't always rainbows, music and love. They were young and needed such life lessons, no doubt.

"I've had complaints," he finally said, and savored the absolutely crestfallen look that took over Anderson's face at the idea that he might have behaved in a way that had left a customer dissatisfied and thus failed his mission as a waiter. Hummel simply took a small breath and held it, waiting for what would come next. He was no fun. "About the new schedule."

At that Anderson's impressive eyebrows drew together in confusion. Hummel was still waiting, face impassible as ever.

"Apparently they want 'more Klaine'," Gunther went on. And have no appreciation for my entirely legitimate choices meant to insure that they actually get fed with dishes instead of songs. But apparently living on love alone is possible, even if it's only vicariously through a pair of ridiculous, exceedingly smitten brats.

When he heard the words Hummel finally moved - but only to share a look with Anderson, who wasn't even trying to hide his growing smile. Given that every single one of his songs had been nothing but a huge, disgustingly sappy declaration of love to his fiancé and a display of pride over being engaged to him specifically, it didn't really come as a surprise that he would be delighted to hear that people liked them together. Hummel was more reserved - he always was - but even he couldn't help but let his lips twitch into a small, secretive, indulgent smile, a smile that said _You goof, look at what you've done, I don't know why I put up with you, you're ridiculous but oh, do I love you so_. And Anderson's wide, guileless eyes adoringly replied, _I love you too_.

How people could find that "cute", Gunther couldn't fathom.

He cleared his throat because if not they'd just keep ogling each other all day. And that wasn't sweet; it was a waste of time.

"Since the customer is always right, we'll give him what he want," he declared. "From now on you share the first shift Mondays and Thursdays and the third shift on the nights from Saturday to Sunday. I want to see if it brings in more people. The rest stays as it was, you do have remain able to work on your own sometimes." He paused for a second, mulling things over, before he added: "And I'm limiting the amount of songs you're allowed to sing per shift to three. That thing only works well if the customers don't always get what they want. Do you think you'll manage to hold back?" he asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Anderson nodded in that earnest way of his. "Yes, Sir."

"I think it can be arranged," Hummel confirmed, like he was the one making decisions here.

"Good," Gunther said, significantly looking at Hummel to let him know he'd be keeping an eye on his irreverent self. "Now that's cleared, get out of my office. You've got work, and I won't tolerate you being late. Tell that to Lopez too. _Again_."

"Yes, Sir," Anderson repeated, jumping up from his seat, and maybe Gunther had gotten his choice of career all wrong and should've joined the army instead because he did like that title. Hummel simply inclined his head in acknowledgment and unfolded his long legs to stand up, gracious and aloof like he often was. And despite his hurried excitement and his wish to start work on time Anderson lingered outside the office, waiting for his fiancé to join him. As the door closed behind them Gunther caught sight of their hands finding each other again without them even needing to look.

And okay, so maybe, _just maybe_ Gunther could guess where the customers were coming from. But no, he wasn't "shipping it". He couldn't, he didn't even know what that meant.

Infallible logic.

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_End_

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